Paloon Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Paloon

Friendship has a base
-in feeling, relation,
-or is core, or column,
-for need to perfection
-or being some shoulder…

Friends share a kernel
-in a seed or crop,
-a fruit…some harvest.

My father
-owned farms and animals
-his friends therefore had
-a hand in or dealt in
-or somehow were making
-one of this…

Friends joke, have secrets
-in times, talk special
-have own tongues, words
-that, others may not get.

Same was for my father.

I, as said
-was born in
-some village
-in mountains.

Though left it as a child
-she remains in me, hides.

I draw its map if
-am buried
-underneath and behind
-roofs and walls from rocks.

My village, my Feshark
-I miss you
-as parents miss a child;
- (forever, till they die!)

When daddy took along
-me, as boy, to the town
- (city was Esfahan,)
-I knew nothing of
-their joking, friendship.

"Come, let me make you a …"
-said the father's friend:
- "…nice jacket to fit you..."

Deep inside felt happy
-not same as my Daddy
-who pulled me, said something.

I did not get a thing…

He was a good tailor
-not for the human,
-but donkeys…

I was child, innocent,
-unaware of their way.

Now, I am far older
-than they were
-in that age…

I miss Dad
- (is long dead.)
-and work of his friend.

No more the donkeys are
-respected and needed
-as they were in old days.

And Paloon, their jackets,
-are not made in same way.

He made them to fit the
-largeness of animal and last long.
-Used varied straws as cushion
-to help the cargo size…